Ode to a poet

No swan song for Eratos' son, beloved for raptures and simple pleasures versed.
Unearthed and excavated from Ionian treasures. Legion in the lands where the spirit of romance was set aflame. Kindled by the rivers bend, in the plains at the feet of a mountain goddess, whose sensuous slopes alured. Visions passed down to inspire the hopes of Calliopes' children. Met upon the downs and wandering forests of green England. Gathered from clouds and the crowded peaks of a mountainous landscape.
Expansive views found on the shore, lines fished from rivers in flowing verses, as contours of an art a new arrangement of senses inflamed.
Aimed at the heart to touch without wounding and so mark the pinnacles of passion, and the fortunes or calamities one mind can entertain.
Immortal youth remains.